


Nutrition

by yeaka



Category: TOLKIEN J. R. R. - Works & Related Fandoms, The Hobbit - All Media Types
Genre: M/M, Vignette, WTF
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-11-20
Updated: 2015-11-20
Packaged: 2018-05-02 12:10:16
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 837
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/5247797
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/yeaka/pseuds/yeaka
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Bofur’s next in line to help Bilbo through another round of hobbity needs.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Nutrition

**Author's Note:**

> A/N: Fill for anon’s “A fact about Hobbits is they crave sex as nearly often as they crave food. Without orgasms, they start getting grey and unhealthy. It simply by giving the burglar his nightly frottage and then moves on to blowjobs, handjob, anal, and all the kinky stuff you may want to add. Bilbo is very happy and the dwarves are very helpful” prompt on [the Hobbit Kink Meme](http://hobbit-kink.livejournal.com/9471.html?thread=21386239#t21386239).
> 
> Disclaimer: I don’t own The Hobbit or any of its contents, and I’m not making any money off this.

“It doesn’t matter,” Nori insists, even though he’s _wrong_ , “they’re the exact same temperament. If you have trouble with that pony you’ll have trouble with this one.”

“If they’re the same,” Bofur counters, “then why won’t you switch with me?”

He already knows the answer, but he’s still half-surprised when Nori freely admits, “Because she looks better with my hair. It compliments my whole look! Yours doesn’t even—”

Nori’s voice falters, trailing off, and a second later, Bofur learns why; a weight attaches to his back, small arms wrapping tight around his chest. He lifts his own arms up and out of the way, glancing behind him, but he knows who it is—Bilbo’s easily their smallest member. And Bilbo has a very distinctive voice, currently warped around a tiny whimper, his hips cantering forward to rub his crotch against Bofur’s thigh; he’s hard again, as hobbits seem so wont to be. Bofur can feel the avid bulge in Bilbo’s trousers. 

“Shit,” Nori mutters, drawing Bofur’s attention again. “Sorry, I forgot to give him his morning handjob.”

It’s the one duty Bofur never expected Nori to fail at, and he can’t help but turn into a bit of a Dori, only because he cares so much for Bilbo, like all of them. “Nori, honestly! You know how sick he gets if he doesn’t get enough—when you accept the morning round, you gotta stay on it!”

“I know, I know,” Nori grumbles, shaking his head. “I’ll take over tonight—” But it’s Thorin’s watch tonight, and that’s not something Bofur’s sure Thorin will want to give up. It’s not something he can offer, anyway, but it doesn’t matter right now; it’s just started to get dark, and clearly Bilbo’s gone too long already. A sudden, ragged groan cuts Nori off again, and Bofur twists around to pat Bilbo’s honey hair. 

“ _Bofur_ ,” Bilbo mumbles, husky and _wanting_ , the sort of thing that makes Bofur stir in his own trousers. Having to take care of their burglar is hardly a hardship, though Bilbo can be a bit fussy about how he’s taken, and it took him a long time to get over his shyness about sex in public and admit why he was getting so grey and sickly. Gandalf should’ve warned them. But Gandalf always seems to disappear at these times, and it leaves Bofur to peck Bilbo’s forehead and rub soothing circles on his back. 

Over Bilbo’s needy whine, Bofur coos, “You’ve gone all day without any orgasms, then? Poor thing. That’s not right for a healthy hobbit, is it?” Bilbo shakes his head, nose burrowing deeper into Bofur’s body, sniffing at the jut between his shoulder and neck. Bilbo’s lifting up on his big feet, bare toes practically on top of Bilbo’s boots, and Bofur finally obliges. He holds Bilbo’s middle against him with one arm and uses the other to unfasten Bilbo’s belt and dip beneath his trousers, down through the soft tufts of curls to the stout cock waiting for Bofur, pulsing, hard and hot, in his thick fingers. Bilbo instantly ruts into him, crying out, and Bofur soothes, “Shh,” and faithfully strokes his cock. 

Then, over Bilbo’s head, he argues on, “Anyway, Nori, it isn’t like there’s anyone out here for you to pick up—what’s the difference if you don’t match your pony?”

“There’s all of you,” Nori answers, gesturing a hand vaguely about. His cheeks stain faintly pink when he says it, which gives Bofur the sneaking suspicion that this is about more than just being vain—maybe Nori’s actively trying to impress someone in the company, and therefore doesn’t want Bofur’s rowdy pony bouncing him about and making him look as silly as Bofur feels. 

Unfortunately, it’ll have to be a mystery for another day, because Bilbo starts mouthing at Bofur’s collar through his tunic. Bilbo’s plump body is trembling, his face far redder than Nori’s, and it tells Bofur that a handjob won’t be enough to satiate all of Bilbo’s pent up need. So he nudges Bilbo’s head with his own, until Bilbo looks up, lips wet and open, and Bofur leans down to give him a firm, lingering kiss, full of tongue. Bilbo mewls happily into it, lifting up, his hips thrusting all the harder into Bofur’s hand. When Bofur pulls back, Bilbo’s left keening, and Bofur sighs, “You better help me with him, Nori.”

“Absolutely,” Nori agrees, but not before calling across to the group starting the fire, “Oi, Dwalin—Bilbo’s having another spell, come help us give him a double dose!” 

Dwalin, the closest dwarf to them, glances over in mild surprise. Bilbo makes a happy moaning noise; he must know what that means: two for his rear, one for his mouth. They have enough eager bachelors to make sure he’s given maximum attention. 

He sinks down to the grassy earth while Dwalin wanders over, Nori settling down to strip away Bilbo’s coat and Bofur opening his trousers to feed Bilbo what he should’ve had for his hobbit-breakfast.


End file.
